Thus it came about that the most beautiful bird of the air was the little wee finch that waited its turn.” – How The Finch Got Its Colors (A Flemish Legend)

It wasn’t until I was 20 years old that I found out the meaning of my surname. I was flying aboard Sabena (the national airline of Belgium) from Frankfurt am Main “back to the States,” to outprocess from my Army tour of duty, at Fort Dix, New Jersey. I was wearing my dress green uniform on the plane, and at some point in the flight, a stewardess happened to notice my name tag and asked if I knew the meaning of my last name. I guess I had never considered that my surname might have had a “meaning” behind it, but this Belgian stewardess told me that, in Flemish, my last name meant “The Finch.”

Twenty years later, while on a business trip to southern California, I walked into a heraldry shop down in the bowels of the Hotel del Coronado. I was greeted by the elderly proprietor, who wasted no time in asking what my surname was. The moment I replied, he immediately blurted out, “Belgian nobility. Flemish barons originally from Antwerp,” then scurried off into a back room. When he returned, he was carrying a very large, ornately-spined leathern tome of family coats of arms. This, he placed on the counter, quickly rifled through it, turned the book towards me, pointed to an illustration, and said, “There you are, your family’s coat of arms. One large finch bird atop a crest of five smaller finches.”

Today, 25 years after walking into that heraldry shop, I have arrived in Brugge, Belgium, for the spectacular Procession of the Holy Blood, celebrated every year on Ascension Day. While researching my genealogy on the internet, I discovered a Flemish legend about how the finch bird got its colors. It’s a beautiful story – with a strong moral lesson about humility and patience – but somewhat lost to the ages (as much of folklore is today). I asked a bookshop owner whether she could find a book on the subject (which she could not), nor had she ever heard the legend herself. When I told it to her, she so loved the story that she was shocked that there was no book to be found about the little finch.

In the lobby of my hotel, facing the reception desk, is a large birdcage. Atop the birdcage, making incredible sounds and catcalls, is Coco, an African Grey Parrot. He is currently molting, but he still possesses many of his grey feathers, along with his distinctive red tail feathers. I told the receptionist the finch legend and, much like the bookshop owner, she admitted that she had never heard it before – but almost cried after hearing me tell the story. Now that I am back in my room, I have decided to retell the story of how the finch got its colors, based on what I had discovered earlier from a very old source. Because it is folklore, there is no definitive authorship attached to the story, so I will retell it now, in my own words. But, because of my fortuitous meeting with Coco in the hotel lobby, I have decided to enhance this Flemish legend, just to add one more moral lesson.

How The Finch Got Its Colors

Once, when all the birds of the earth were only dull grey in color, a beautiful rainbow appeared in the heavens above. The Great Bird decided that it would bestow the colors of the rainbow upon each of the birds, and so had the birds get in line to receive their colors.

The grey parrot was the first to  screech, ‘I want red . . . and yellow . . . and blue . . . I want them all!’

Then the grey canary said, ‘I would be very happy to just have the yellow, please.’

The grey jay offered, ‘And I would be most happy should I be feathered in only blue.’

And this is how all of the grey birds petitioned for the different colors of the rainbow, until all of the colors were spoken for. Proudly displaying their new, colorful feathers to each other, the birds were anxious to take flight when, just then, the Great Bird happened to notice a wee grey finch bird at the very end of the line.

‘Little finch, why did you not speak up, like the others, and petition for one of the colors of the rainbow?’ asked the Great Bird.

‘I was simply waiting my turn,’ the wee finch sadly responded. ‘Must I always stay in grey now?’

The Great Bird gave thoughtful consideration to the plight of the small, overlooked bird. ‘No, little finch,’ said the Great Bird. ‘You will, most certainly, not be punished for your act of unselfishness and patience.’

Before the other birds could take flight, the Great Bird commanded them to line up again. And from every bird, it requested that they give a portion of their color to the little finch.

‘Why should I have to give up any of my beautiful colors?’ protested the tri-colored parrot. ‘I was the first in line.’

‘For that very reason,” answered the Great Bird, ‘you will relinquish your yellow to the canary, and your blue to the jay.’

‘Am I expected to be only in red then?’ complained the parrot.

‘No,’ replied the Great Bird. ‘You will give your red to the cardinal, and return to the grey parrot you were before greed possessed you so. But as a gift to you, you will be allowed to retain a splash of red on your tail – to forever remind you of the virtues of humility, patience, and charity.’

The Great Bird then took a portion of color from each of the other birds, and gave it to the finch. Then, lo and behold, the little finch was now magnificently resplendent with, not only one color of the rainbow, but all of them.

Thus it came about that the most beautiful bird of the air was the little wee finch that waited its turn.

. . . And why the only color of the rainbow to be found on the prideful, impatient grey parrot is but a touch of red on its tail.”